


brilliant.

by kiichu



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, I don't know how else to describe it., Introspection, It's just very soft., M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 05:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiichu/pseuds/kiichu
Summary: Ed and Oswald share a soft, quiet moment after the blood from the Dentist's torture has been wiped away.





	brilliant.

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of my goodbye to the fandom, as I'm kind of over Gotham's treatment of Nygmobblepot. I still care about the ship and the characters, but I'm not going to invest time in the show anymore.

“Your hair’s a bit longer, now.”

The words tumble out of Ed’s mouth before he can catch his tongue, but Oswald merely gives a hum of recognition. The shorter man’s eyes are narrowed and focused, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip as he works diligently. The swipe of a wet towelette across his cheek makes Ed shiver, the clean smell lingering around them in the room.

“Fluffier,” Ed adds, this time very much aware of what he’s saying.

Oswald’s mouth curls to a slight smile once he discards the blood-soaked cloth, his head shaking from side to side. “Yes, I suppose I’ve unconsciously decided to embrace the penguin look.”

Ed blinks. “It isn’t a bad thing,” he assures, “just something I noticed.”

“Yes, well… let’s get a look at _you_ , now.” With a click of his tongue, Oswald looks him up and down, eyes quickly taking in every inch of him visible. Ed knows Oswald can see a vast amount in just a small glance, so he raises his eyebrows in expectation.

“The bloodstains really bring out your eyes,” the man finally says, with a nasally chuckle.

Ed smiles his thanks, the compliment warming his cheeks. “M’sure I look pretty pathetic right now,” he says with a shy shrug, knowing full well of his disheveled appearance.

The grin is returned. “No, seriously,” Oswald responds, “a lot has changed from the quivering forensic I met down at the GCPD all those years ago. The person I see before me... he’s truly emerged from his cocoon - became the man he’s always wanted to be.” A hand pats Ed’s shoulder kindly, and Oswald stumbles up from his seat.

There’s a softness in the atmosphere that makes Ed sleepy, the lingering pain from the drills being the only thing that keeps him awake. The quiet that falls between them is comforting, and the world seems to slow. Each rhythmic tick of the clock in Oswald’s mansion settles the understanding of reality in Ed’s mind: he’s finally accepted his best friend back into his life.

“What now?” Ed dares to ask, his words a bit slurred. He’s seated on the couch, the adrenaline at the docks depleting rapidly as his body tries to fight off slumber. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Oswald - for once, he can say that trust is not even a factor of concern - he just doesn’t want to sleep just yet. Plus, it wouldn’t exactly be kind to drift off in the middle of their conversation.

Oswald breathes a long sigh, crossing his arms and lowering his head to study the floor. “You know, I’m not entirely sure right now. I want to see Martin, but I don’t quite know if it’s wise yet.”

Ah. Martin. Ed smiles slightly at the name, remembering the child gazing up at him in wonder once he arrived at the safehouse with a rather… dramatic entrance. Martin’s eyes had glittered once Ed mentioned getting some ice cream, and the two of them thoroughly enjoyed themselves at _Gotham Scoops_.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Ed slurs in an apologetic tone. “I just know the kid’s safe.”

“Yes, thank you,” Oswald says with the gentlest of smiles. Ed’s heart thumps against his ribcage at the sight of it, and he doesn’t quite understand why. He flashes a tired grin back, the motion causing his shredded gums to stretch a bit. Biting back a hiss, he scrunches his eyes shut and lowers his head, riding the pain out.

When he lifts his eyelids, stars pepper his vision; through it all, he spots Oswald’s concerned gaze. A hand is placed on his cheek, the touch at such a perfectly cool temperature he finds himself leaning in.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” Oswald murmurs, his expression growing pained.

Ed shakes his head, trying to say that it was his fault and he should’ve planned things through more, but all that comes out is a garbled, “I wash doin’ okah…”

With a slight scoff, the other man shakes his head. “You didn’t give me up, even faced with death. And here I thought… you’d betrayed me again.” His smile fades to a grimace again, that same wounded look molding onto his face. Ed’s always hated that look; whether the source be from receiving a compliment, or torturing a man, Oswald looks best when he’s wearing a smile.

Ed can’t help but chuckle. “I don’t think I could do that, after you helped free me. I’ve felt more… _together_ than I have in months.” He isn’t the Riddler, but not quite Edward Nygma, either; he’s just… _Ed_. Just _himself_. This is who he prefers to be, who he embraces as his identity. The world is so very terrifying when he’s polarized, and Oswald helped ground him. Like a strong foundation to an otherwise shaky structure, he now stands firm against any opposition.

And Oswald probably has no idea how strong Ed feels - or perhaps he does. Oswald’s strength has always been his ability to be one step ahead of everyone else, to know people better than they know themselves. He saw potential in Ed, saw something worth nurturing and mentoring - worth _loving_ , even.

“Glad to help,” Oswald murmurs, waving it off with a lighthearted scoff. “I was _so_ angry up until I found the bowler hat in Sophia’s place, you know. Ready to murder you on sight, even.”

That response is so much like Oswald that Ed can’t help but snort in amusement. “Don’t worry, there’s still a very large part of me that doesn’t want you to fail,” he replies. Though he enjoyed getting the upper hand on Oswald a few times in the past, Ed knows with every inch of his being that he _cannot_ let Oswald die. He couldn’t bear the thought before, even when he’d pulled the trigger himself - like hell he’d let anyone else do it.

Before, he would have probably made up some excuse, claiming that Oswald was _his prey_ or something, but he knows it’s not the truth. Given his history, Ed apparently loves to deceive himself, but even he can recognize that poor reasoning as a lie.

“There was a time I thought I’d do anything for you,” he continues, his heart feeling heavy. “Now, I’m not so sure it’d be _anything_ , but… surely I’d do more than I thought.”

“Even die?” Oswald asks, his eyes wide and his breath held.

“Even die,” Ed agrees, the words settling heavily in the air.

The pause between them is so long, so _loud_ in its quiet, that Ed finds his eyelids drooping and his head nearly falling in tandem. The sunset streams in through a crack in the window, and he can’t help but focus his eyes on it, studying the specks of dust flying through the air in the orange beams of light.

He feels his body finally sink against the cushions behind him, a small grunt leaving him as the movement shifts his mouth a bit too uncomfortably. A weighted warmth spreads across him, causing him to creak his eyes open to peek at the source. Oswald is standing over him, fingers just letting go of a blanket. It’s tucked around him at the sides, and he finds himself grinning yet again.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, snuggling deeper into the cozy cover, “and don’t worry... I’ll be back to my normal self again soon…”

“Ed,” Oswald says, his voice sounding far away, yet so soothing. “I’d be concerned if you were what people consider _normal_. You and I, we’ll never be _normal_. I’m _me_ , and you’re _you_ , and that’s why I _still…_ ”

The words cut off just as Ed’s consciousness does, but he can almost fill in the blanks himself once his world swirls into darkness.

He feels Oswald’s presence as he drifts off, the tangible peace in the air enough to lull him right to sleep. It’s strange, but months ago he wouldn’t have felt so safe in the other man’s presence, but now… now, he can’t think of a person he’d rather be around in this very moment.

It isn’t like Kristen, it isn’t like Isabella, it isn’t like Lee. His short time with any of them couldn’t possibly measure up to how Oswald twists his emotions.  _This_ particular feeling is on a whole new level - much more powerful, and yet softer at the same time. Like burning, brilliant light, it blinds and warms him somehow simultaneously.

He can’t even put a label or definition on any of it, the emotions being so unnecessarily dramatic and complicated - just like Oswald himself.

And Ed _adores_ the chase at the root of everything, and finds himself wanting to figure out how much Oswald means to him like it’s one giant riddle. It’s fun, it’s challenging, and he feels safe and comforted in the seemingly dangerous light that is Oswald Cobblepot.

Because Ed knows, even in the darkest pits of his enigmatic mind, that no one and nothing else can compare to this.


End file.
